


Turnabout

by kathkin



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: F/M, Mild S&M, Spanking, bottom!jamie, you don't have to have listened to Prison in Space to read this but it helps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:59:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3634119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathkin/pseuds/kathkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Zoe gives Jamie a taste of his own medicine and Jamie finds he likes it. Post-<i>Prison in Space</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turnabout

Zoe was seated at what had come to be her usual table in the library, one of the Doctor’s dustier tomes propped before her. Jamie stood in the doorway and knocked softly. Getting no response, he walked into the room and sat himself down a safe few seats away. “Evenin’, Zoe,” he said. There was no response. “What’s that you’re reading? Anything good?”

Silence. Zoe flicked over the page, lifted her pen, and wrote out some notes in her neat, square handwriting. Jamie drummed his fingers on the smooth table top, pondering his next course of action. He got up and shifted a seat closer, leaning over to peer at her book.

That got him a reaction, though not the one he’d been hoping for. Zoe slid her book along the table and shifted herself after it, moving a seat further away. Then she resumed her silent note-taking.

Jamie let himself consider giving up and leaving her to it. But he couldn’t, or not without crawling back to the Doctor with his tail between his legs.

“Make nice to Zoe,” the Doctor had said, taking him aside in the control room. When Jamie had started to protest, he’d gone on. “No arguments. I’m sick to my teeth of being your go-between. Go and apologise.”

“Och,” said Jamie, indignant. “I already said I was sorry.”

“Well, evidently that wasn’t enough,” said the Doctor. “I mean it, Jamie. I won’t put up with this any longer.”

Jamie tugged his arm out of the Doctor’s grip. “Why do I have to make nice to her?” he said. “She could stand to be a wee bit nicer to me.” _He’d_ been perfectly civil. Zoe was the one who hadn’t said a word to him in three days. Seeing as how he’d already apologised, the way he saw it, she ought to be the one _making nice_.

“Jamie,” said the Doctor, low and serious. “Go and talk to Zoe. I don’t care what it takes. Prostrate yourself if you have to, but make things right or you’re on your own.”

So here he was, _making nice_ , so far with no results. He sat quietly a while longer, listening to the _scritch, scritch_ of Zoe’s pen upon the page. “Look, I said I was sorry,” he said, breaking the silence. “And I _am_. Sorry, I mean. Will y’just talk to me?” 

_Scritch, scritch_. She turned over a page and studied a complex diagram. Jamie watched her work, ever-increasingly indignant. “Why’d you have to be like this?” he said. “I know you’re upset, but –”

“Why?”

Jamie blinked, startled to hear her speak. “What?”

At last, Zoe put down her pen and acknowledged his existence. “Why am I upset?”

“Well, I –” Jamie found himself stumped. He floundered, at a loss for a proper answer. He could tell from Zoe’s hard stare that if he didn’t come up with something soon he’d be scuppered. “I, erm –”

“I thought so,” said Zoe. “You really don’t know, do you?” She picked up her pen and applied it to the page.

“Och, look.” Jamie shifted himself along a chair. “I really _am_ sorry. I never meant to upset you. I was only trying to –” She shot him a cold look. He swallowed back the rest of that thought. “Can we not just be friends again?” _Scritch, scritch_ went her pen. “I’ll do whatever it takes. I mean it. I miss talkin’ to you.”

Zoe paused in her scribbling. Her pen tap-tap-tapped against her notebook as she scrutinised him, her eyes narrow. “You’ll do anything?”

He should have known from the look in her eye what he was about to walk into, but he was too glad to have got her talking to pay attention. “Anything,” he said, nodding.

“Well,” Zoe said, ruminating, “there is one thing you could do.”

“Anything y’like,” Jamie repeated.

Zoe told him. Jamie’s eyes widened.

His chair creaked as he leaned back, recoiling, his hands spread. “Oh, no,” he said. “No, no, no. I’m not doin’ that.”

“I thought you said you’d do anything?” 

“Aye, but – well, not _that_. Not in a hundred years.” 

“No?” Zoe sounded almost plaintive. “It seems only fair to me.”

Even he could see the logic to that. “Well, aye, but – but you’re not – och, there’s nothing _fair_ about it.”

“Isn’t there?”

“No,” Jamie said decisively.

“Alright.” Zoe lifted her pen. “Enjoy the silent treatment.”

And just like that, the shutters went back down. She resumed taking her notes as if he didn’t exist. “Zoe?” he said. “Zoe, c’mon. Don’t be like that.” He shifted a little closer to her and reached out to nudge her arm. She flinched away. “Och, _Zoe_.” There was no answer, though he waited and waited. “You cannae keep this up forever.”

Maybe she could, though. Zoe was one of the stubbornest people he knew. She’d blanked him for three days straight. Maybe she _could_ keep it up forever.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, for the first time actually considering her offer. He couldn’t exactly go back to the Doctor and spread his hands and say _I did everything I could, she just won’t be reasonable_ if she’d given him an out and he hadn’t taken it. If the world was a fair and just place, the Doctor would take his side, but it wasn’t. The Doctor had insisted he do whatever it took, up to and including, he assumed, his total humiliation. But he couldn’t. He just _couldn’t_. It was too awful. She couldn’t be serious.

She _couldn’t_ be serious. Surely she wouldn’t actually do it. It was flat-out ridiculous. She’d only suggested it to rile him up. Most likely, he concluded, she’d fully expected him to say no, and then she’d be able to go to the Doctor and say _well I gave him an out and he wouldn’t take it, what more do you want?_ If he accepted she was sure to back down, wasn’t she?

He continued squirming in his seat. He rubbed a hand over his mouth. He drummed his fingers upon the arm of the chair. At length, he said, “och, _fine_. If you say so.”

Zoe looked up at him sharply, the beginnings of a smile playing about her lips. “Really?” Sure enough, she sounded surprised. She’d back down. Jamie shrugged as if to say _why not?_

Zoe set down her pen, closed the book, and rose from her chair. “Alright, then. Get up and bend over.”

Jamie stared up at her. “What?” he said dully.

“Get up and bend over,” Zoe repeated. There was an unpleasant gleam in her eye, and abruptly Jamie knew three things for sure: firstly, she wasn’t going to back down. Secondly, neither was he. And thirdly, Zoe was a being of _pure. evil._

“I heard you the first time,” he said. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to leave his seat. “Och, you’re not serious.”

“I’m deadly serious,” said Zoe. “You said you’d do it. Didn’t you mean it?”

“Aye, well –” He’d honestly expected her to back down. But she wasn’t and he couldn’t with his pride intact. He squirmed, trapped between a rock and a hard place.

There was only one way out. He took a deep breath. “Alright. Alright.” He pointed an accusing finger up at her. “But you cannae tell _anyone_. Understood?”

“Of course I won’t tell anyone,” said Zoe. “What do you take me for? Now, get up.”

He didn’t understand how she could be so deadpan about this. He got to his feet, a sinking feeling in his chest. He shoved the chair aside to make room for himself and leaned heavily on the table, trying to find the most dignified way to bend over it. It quickly proved to be an exercise in futility. There was no dignified way to bend over with your arse out.

He settled on resting his weight on his elbows, forearms flat to the table, which was at least sort of comfortable. “Will this do?” he said.

“That’ll do fine,” said Zoe. 

Before he knew what she was doing, she was lifting the back of his kilt, exposing his behind. He twisted around, snatching the hem out of her grip and holding it down. “Zoe!”

“What?” Zoe protested. “I can hardly do it through that heavy thing, can I?”

Jamie had half a mind to back down there and then – but he relented. “Aye. I ‘spose not.” He leaned on the table again, trying to mentally prepare himself.

It couldn’t be that bad, he reasoned as Zoe tucked his kilt securely into his belt. Zoe had such wee hands. Wee soft hands. It might be excruciatingly embarrassing but it wasn’t as if it would really hurt.

As it happened, he was dead wrong. The size of her hands just made them precision weapons. “Ow! Zoe!” He flinched, twisting to face her, truly shocked. “That hurt!”

“It was meant to,” said Zoe, motioning for him to turn around. Jamie obliged, too confused to argue.

A second sharp smack resounded through the library. Jamie hissed. “Big baby,” said Zoe, spanking him again, and again.

“That _hurts_ ,” Jamie said, indignant. “Ow. _Ow_. Zoe. _Ow._ ” The combination of the cold air in the library and the pain was giving him gooseflesh – and it was starting to properly hurt, heated skin stinging where her tiny, wicked hands had been. 

What was even worse than the pain was the sick feeling twisting in his guts, the way he throbbed with humiliation at the sheer indignity of being treated like this. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and pressed a half-curled hand to his mouth to hold in an undignified whimper. 

“See, it’s not very _nice_ , is it?” Zoe snapped.

“Och, whisht,” Jamie muttered. It was bad enough without her taunting him.

The worst of it was, she was probably right. It was truly awful, and suddenly it was very clear just why she’d been so upset. He wanted to say _alright, I’ve learned my lesson, you can stop now_ , but he didn’t have it in himself to speak. 

But somehow it wasn’t entirely awful. It was giving him a not altogether unpleasant sensation in the pit of his stomach, like hot beating wings. The way his skin warmed and prickled was sort of nice, in a topsy-turvy way. His face burned. Blood was rushing to his cheeks – to both sets of cheeks – and to – to _other places_.

Oh, no. No. As if things couldn’t get any worse. He couldn’t, or she’d never let him live it down. Mortified, he bit hard on his lip and tried to will himself under control. He took a few deep breaths, and said, “come on, that’s enough, now.”

“ _I’ll_ say when it’s enough.” _Smack_. He hissed.

“Alright, _Madame Zoe_ ,” he teased without thinking. That earned him a sharp slap to the top of his thigh, where he was especially sensitive. He grunted, fighting the urge to grind himself helplessly against the edge of the table and his own wadded-up kilt. He glowered at the table top, furious with his own treacherous body for doing this to him.

He couldn’t tell if Zoe had noticed. Maybe she was oblivious. Maybe she was just being polite. Either way, she took his quieting down to mean that he was suitably chastened, and at last – _at last_ – she stopped.

Just when he thought it was over, her nails scratched across the newly sensitised skin. He sucked in a breath. “Have you learned your lesson?” she said.

“Aye,” said Jamie, sullenly humbled. He didn’t trust himself to say anything else.

“Good, because –” She didn’t get to finish that thought. There were footsteps in the corridor outside, and a soft knock upon the closed door.

They turned, as one, towards the library door. Then quick as a flash Zoe flung herself in the direction of her seat. Jamie tugged his kilt out of his belt and threw himself into the nearest chair, dragging himself under the table to conceal his problem. By the time the door opened, they were both sitting peacefully at the table.

“Good evening,” said the Doctor, smiling brightly at them. “I just came to see how you’re getting on.”

“Everything’s fine,” said Zoe sweetly. She opened her book and flicked through the pages, searching for her place.

The Doctor gave Jamie a questioning look. “Aye. Right as rain,” he said.

“Are you alright?” The Doctor squinted at him. “You look a bit flushed.”

“Right as rain,” Jamie repeated. Though in truth he was becoming all too aware of just how rough the wool of his kilt was. It was an effort not to squirm in his seat. The Doctor was still squinting at him. Jamie wondered if he’d guessed what Zoe had done, and cringed.

“We had a good talk, and we’re alright now.” Zoe flattened out the pages and lifted her pen. “Aren’t we, Jamie?”

“Aye. Nae bother,” Jamie said.

“Alright.” The Doctor clasped his hands together and smiled broadly, a picture of delight. “In that case, Jamie, maybe we should leave Zoe to her –”

“No, I’ll sit here for a while,” said Jamie. “I’m comfy. You don’t mind, do you Zoe?” There was no way he was getting up until certain _things_ settled down.

“I wouldn’t mind some company,” said Zoe.

“Well, alright,” said the Doctor. “In that case, I shall leave you to it.”

Jamie watched him go, waiting till the door clicked firmly shut to relax. Zoe, he found, was looking at him, a curious expression upon her face. Once she had his attention, her gaze flicked very deliberately downwards, towards the table top – towards –

Jamie groaned, burying his face in his hands. Zoe was giggling, now. _Giggling_. “Not a word,” he said, waving a finger at her. “Not a _word_.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” Zoe sobered momentarily before dissolving back into giggles. Jamie slumped forward, thunking his head against the table top with a groan of dismay. “It’s alright,” she said. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Jamie peeped up at her. “Are we alright, now?” he said.

Zoe pursed her lips as she considered the question. “Yes,” she concluded. “We’re alright now.”

“Thank God,” said Jamie, “cause I’m nae going through that again, you hear?” Zoe looked at him and quirked an eyebrow as if to say _are you sure you mean that?_ Jamie buried his face in his arm. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice muffled. “I shouldn’t have done what I did.” For the first time, he really, truly meant it.

“Apology accepted,” said Zoe. She went back to her notes, scribbling down a few lines. Jamie shifted in his seat. Beneath the table, things were finally starting to settle down. 

Zoe slammed her book shut, startling him. “I’m bored,” she declared. “Want to do something else?”

Jamie said, “I thought you’d never ask.”


End file.
